


London Calling

by fluffybunnies



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, F/M, M/M, Multi, Secret Identity, other characters later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffybunnies/pseuds/fluffybunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom, or Aleksandr, is a London escort. Stories of great sex, weird sex and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Me and Mr. Jones

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I've recently watched Secret Diary of a Call Girl and have been watching unhealthy amount of Sex and the City, and i had to write something.  
> Alot of new characters will show up on later chapters. (Hiddlesworth, Hiddlesbatch, Avengers, and alot more)  
> music: Amy Winehouse - Me and Mr. Jones

London, the metropolis. People going in and out of the crowded streets. Not looking twice at each other, and amongst them there’s us. The crowds help us go by our business unnoticed, but if you know what to look for, you will find us.

The escorts of London. The callers, whores, prostitutes, whatever you want to call us. We provide a service, a very special and taboo service no one likes to speak of. It’s like a curse written in the wind. Society will break down and burn without us. I know that, and you do as well.

A specific group of peoples are needed to keep our structures secure. There’s your Madame, the lawyer covering for her, the friendly officers of the law who visit us for reason unrelated to their work, and us, and there is no business without us.

Mr. Jones was a business tycoon from New York although he was born in London; he was transferred to the big apple at a young age. He was visiting his business partners for their yearly soirée, and I was the man behind the curtains.

“I would take you if I can.” Lies. His reputation would be ruined if anybody would discover of his visits. They always tell you things to make it seem like they care about you.

“It sounds lovely.” It didn’t. A party full of work beat sex starved middle aged men. No thank you. The hour was over. He knew, he wasn’t new to this, and he was a gentleman. This time he gifted me a Laurent coat, velvet with leather lining. He ran his index finger lightly over the back of my neck and helped me slip it on. The cool fabric felt nice against my skin. I didn’t tell him that. **Rule one of the game: never seem too excited of the gifts the clients give you.** They’ll think they have some control over you, and that is never a good thing.

“I have to go.” His lips ran across my nape, and he headed for the door. I followed him to the front door in the coat, just the coat.

He looked hesitant. “I’m here till next Wednesday. Do you mind if I call on you again then?” Oh, Mr. Jones always the gentleman.

“Let me see what I can do?” **Rule two, never seen needy.** They’ll think your desperate for cash. I walked back to the bedroom and grabbed my planner out of the night stand.

“Mr. Jones I can do 2 in the afternoon.” I looked back at him. “Is that okay?” I arched my eyebrow, he liked that.

“That’s excellent, actually.” A smile shown on his lips.

“Okay, I’ll pencil you in. The two hours as usual.” He nodded. I penciled in: _Jones show till 4,_ on my blank Wednesday slot.

“I’ll see you then.” I ran my hands down his chest and pushed him slightly out the door.

“Yes, today was great. Thank you.” He kissed my cheek and out the door he went.

“Goodbye Mr. Jones.” I whispered towards his back. I shut the door before he could turn around.

His name wasn’t Mr. Jones. We were never told our clients real names. We whores didn’t get that privilege. Madame Constantina handled the dirty work. She handled the calls and passed it on to us. Mr. Jones was a regular of mine, well when he came to the city anyway; he had my work cell number in a special place in his mind.

I grabbed my cell and dialed the 2.

“Yes, darling what do you want?” She was Russian. You can tell from one look. Her snow white skin and fire of hair stood out in the London crowd. “Quickly, Aleksandr!” That was my stage name Aleksandr. They said choose something unique. Constantina got it from a Russian movie. It was complicated yet people tended to remember it. It was also a great topic starter.

“Jones, Wednesday, at two for two.” That’s all she needed to know before the line went dead.

Ah, Constantina and her immaculate breast scared the average joe, but not me. She was a force to be reckoned with, but once you got how she played you didn’t constantly need a change of pants.

I walked to my sanctuary, my Tom room. In this room there was no evidence of my second life, no Aleksandr, none of his designer suits, or any of his toys.

I opened the little room with a key that was kept hidden under the kitchen table with some scotch tape. Loki, a black and golden eyed pussycat ran out wanting freedom.

The room was set up as an office with books piling up everywhere and all around.I sat on the small love seat I crammed in there, and just sat. Loki came in once again and snugged at my neck.

It’s all a long hard day’s work.

__Earlier__

Mr. Jones call surprised me. It was after I finished dinner with some friends. He sounded hushed.

 “Alek, its me.” He had a nickname for me. That’s when you know you’re in for the money.

Jones liked a particular man. Well dressed, well groomed and experienced in the bedroom.

I slipped in a Hugo Boss dark blue suit with a Burberry tie. The shower made my hair easier to slick back. Jones like something soft to hold on to and gel was a big no-no.

The buzzer rang. “Come on up.” Jones looked at the small camera hopefully, and smiled. That was one of his best attributes. His smile and his dark umber skin. It was something that really got me going. I liked a man that wasn’t so pasty. He was in his 40’s, but could past for a lot younger if it wasn’t for the gray in his beard which he kept in nice stubble.

I dabbed a bit of my signature cologne and slipped on the Tanino Crisci shoes Jones had gifted me the last time he was in London.

By the time Jones could knock I opened the door. I did like to be precise.

“Hi.” There was my Tom voice then there was my Aleksandr voice. It was more low and seductive than Tom voice, which at time can get quite high.

“Come on in. You look great.” **Rule three, the three C’s**. Compliments, Compliments, Compliments, and maybe they’ll book you the next time around.

“Just had the worst flight.” I slipped of his coat. “Baby.” He chuckled and placed the envelope in a small stand I had besides the door.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” I rubbed his shoulders, which was actually quite nice. His muscles flexed beneath my hands. For a busy business man it seemed odd that he had time to work out.

“Yeah. The worst part was that it was mine.” That was new. Jones was very careful about what he told me of his personal life. Constantina was the one who told me he was from New York and he hadn’t uttered a word about that.

“Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll see what I can do about that.” I whispered into his ear and passed him a medium size bag, which contained a towel and other toiletries. **Rule four: Safety.** Your safety. The client should shower before anything else. Even then you must do what I like to call a checkup, but that comes a little later.

He made his way to the bathroom, and closed the door. I grabbed the envelope. This was it. This was the reason why I was doing this. The cash. The wealth.

I am an elite escort. High class. Hourly rates for Constantina’s girls and guys never fell under the £300 an hour. We were a luxury only the best can afford, and we knew how to do our job.

I marked the notes, and placed them in one of the upper cabinets that held my junk food. I called the boss.

“With Jones?” She knew everything that went on in her business.

“Yes. I’ll see you on Sunday.” That was code. Sunday was green. Everything okay, no one trying to murder me. Friday was code red. Come here as quickly as you can, and bring a gun. Monday was yellow. Nothing has happened, but I feel something will.

With this job came many risks. That’s why I had a bowie knife under the bed, and a 4 inch Tanto knife in the towel drawer in the restroom.

I heard the shower go off and went into the bedroom. Sitting would crease the suit and Jones was all about a picturesque time. He wanted what I called the Aleksandr Angel. Perfect, smooth, no imperfections, like a painting.

The door clicked open and out came Jones. A loose towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

“I missed you.” He went over to me and looked at me. Just looked. He started from the shoes, and made his way up. “You’re perfect.” His hands found my hair. “You know that?” I shied away, looking away from the person saying those words.

 **Rule five: Find out what your client wants, and needs.** Some of the business men I get want to be bossed around and told what to do. Mr. Jones was different. He liked to be in charge. He didn’t want to hear you contradict what he was saying. He needed to take care of someone.

Surprisingly, he was a rare one.

“Hey look at me.” He picked up my chin and stared into my eyes. Another thing I’ve found out was that he preferred a quite one. Someone who would take is compliments and bash in them.

“I’ve missed you.” He smiled at my words, and like that he kissed me. A great kiss for the record. It was soft but eager, like two lovers who have been separated by the war only to meet again after so long.

He wrapped one of his arms around my waist and the other held at my nape. Holding me in position.

He sucked at my bottom lip then trailed his way down to my neck. My favorite spot, and I let him know.

“Mmhh.” He pushed me gently to the bed, until I fell on the soft covers. He landed softly next to me.

“Take your clothes off for me.” I told you he was bossy.

I straddled him and shook off my blazer, then started with the button down. Slowly.

First button. He caressed my thighs. Second. He licked his lips. Third. He threw me next to him. That was a first.

“Is there something wrong?” I called to him.

“No.” He kissed my cheek.

“Continue. I forgot something in the car.” He got up and headed to the bathroom.

So I did what any good little escort should do. I continued. To be honest I was disappointed. Did Jones, not want to have sex? That would be awful, I really did enjoy it.

Mr. Jones, left the bathroom fully cloth.

“Did I do something wrong?” I’ve finished folding the button down, no point in making a show.

“No. I’ll be back. Buzz me in will you.” And with that he was gone. A minute later the small buzz sent my pulse back to normal.

I opened the door and headed to the bed in my birthday suit to get comfortable. This was interesting.

Mr. Jones entered the flat with two presents. OH, presents! I loved them.

‘Sorry about that.” Mr. Jones had a voice that was smooth and silky. He had a Londoner accent but it seemed to be fading away every time they met. It was all that New York. His voice sounded odd when he was apologizing. It didn’t fit.

I shook my head to dismiss the weird behavior.

“Open it.” He handed me a small square box. “This one is for later.” He grinned and put the white YSL bag to the side. That’s the one I wanted to open.

I caressed the small box before opening it.

“Oh, it’s so nice.” It wasn’t. A Nike watch that probably cost less than £200 pounds, really? Where’s my Rolex, you high collar, the One percent man?

“Yeah I remember you said you like to run. It’s one of the best sport watches in the market.” Oh. He remembered that.  I guess it could even out the horrible gift. Besides I still had the YSL gift.

“You didn’t have to.” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes that made everyone melt even my Dom clients. I looked at the watch and there I saw it.

“XXX IE. Who’s IE?” It was printed, not engraved if I may say, in the back.

“Idris Elba. Me” He took the box out of my hands and set it aside.

I was a bit shocked at first but then he got started.

He took the sheets I had wrapped myself up and uncovered me. I didn’t have time to contemplate this situation any further because he then kissed me. In that sweet spot in the neck that made my toes curl.

He attacked my mouth again, but this time with more groping. He rolled me on top of him. That’s when the magic started. He laid back on the head of the bed and in the straddle position I began to grind him. Slowly at first. His kisses trailed down to my nipples, and he began to suck. Our moans coalescing with the soft music I had put in the background.

At one point our movements stopped. We held onto each other, my hands digging into his short hair. Our mouths touching but not kissing.

He pushed me on my back, and discarded his top on the floor before coming back down to me caressing my body with his hands.

He trailed kisses down and stopped just below the navel, pulling the little hairs just so slight, and then coming back up to kiss my neck.

            I got turned over slowly, and got slapped in the rear. “Ow.” It didn’t really hurt. He sucked and nipped at my bum before giving it another slap. I reached to the nightstand and got a condom. **Rule 6; always use a condom no matter what.**

            I sat up facing him and worked on his slacks. I rubbed him through the fabric while I worked on the zipper. I reached inside and there it was, Mr. J…I mean Idris’s cock. Big and just as wonderful as the last time I saw it. I gave a giggle, just for show as I began to stroke it.

            This was where my checkup started. I stroked and checked for any signs of anything unusual. I did it quickly so it wouldn’t kill the mood. I tore the condom packet and placed the circular latex it in my mouth. Bending down I took his cock in my mouth and slowly slid the condom on. It’s a lot harder than it sounds, and it’s kind of my specialty.

Idris was a marathoner. He could just keep going and going. So my extra special trick were used on him to get him going and gone for the time he booked me for. I sucked at the base of his cock before making my way to the head sucking at it and rolling my tongue around it, then back down.

When he was hard and his breathes were uneven he flipped me over on my stomach. I had pre stretched and had on a stainless steel butt plug. Not all the men wanted to spend half their time getting me ready, Idris Included. He slowly pulled it out before sucking at my lubed whole.

“Uhh” That wasn’t a fake he did know how give a good job.

“I’m going in.” Idris never really spoke during sex, and when he did it was quite unnecessary.

“AH.” He slid home. His whole cock in me in a matter of seconds. He seemed like a gentle lover, he was, but when he came to anal he like it rough, and who’s to say I didn’t.

He slid out before sliding back in, in a fluid motion. There were slow but rough at first, getting use to the rhythm. After a few thrust he began to speed up. He brought my wrist to my back and held them. Using them has support.

“Oh God!” The friction of the bed sheets and my hardening cock send pulses to my body.

His thrusts were erratic but smooth, sending my whole body forward then back. The bed creaked underneath us.

I freed a hand from his grasp and reached behind him. I grabbed his ass and scratched lightly. “Faster.” And he listened.

He let go of my hand and wrapped his arms around me holding me closer making the thrust harder.

My cock was dripping, and I was ready to come. My muscled clenched up all around Idris’s cock. He came with a grunt squeezing me closer to his body.

He breathes were hard and rough as he turned me on my back. He grabbed my cock and began pumping. And then I came too.


	2. Nowhere Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song: Summer Boy - Lady Gaga

* * *

 

Jones.

The relationship had been fine until he decided to speak. Gosh, why did he have to open his mouth?

Tom was on his way to the Sunday meeting, and every step he took echoed _Idris Elba Idris Elba_. God he hated that guy, but he loved his coat.

**Rule seven, remember it’s a job.** Sure Tom liked Idris’s company, but he knew that was all it was. A two hour fuck then goodbye till next time. When the arrangement seemed to be getting out of hand it was time to call it off. It can never lead to anything good. Then the wife will find out, then divorce and who would be the only person the bastard would have left, the guy who gave him sex. It’s only a job after all.

He decided, after much contemplation and fawning over his new coat, next Wednesday it would be the last time with Jones.

Constantina met with the escorts every other Sunday at a bar at the West End. Her husband, who had a knack for using sunglasses indoors and at inappropriate times, owned it. He was known only has Barton.

He entered the musky bar. No eyes were on him, despite the expensive coat on his shoulders; the bar patrons where busy trying not to get noticed themselves.

“ALEK!” Jaimie, another of the escorts in the agency called to him from a back table. She was a lot older that the rest of them, but her pretty face didn’t show it.

Jaimie cradled a cosmopolitan, and the hunk next to her took a swig of his beer. Chris, or his stage name Hunt was the hunk of the agency; his arms were about the size of an average man’s head. He was more popular than Tom, having more of a female based clientele. You couldn’t help but be jealous of him.

“Mimosa.” Tom waved at the bartender, who gave him a poker face, as he made his way to the back of the bar.

Chris got up and pulled a chair for Tom, who couldn’t help but blush. He made mental note to punch himself for it later.

“Tell him Jaimie.” Chris had an Australian drawl which made him plenty more charming.

Constantina had a knack for changing names every so often. She was no longer Constantina, which Tom was grateful; it was sort of a mouthful.

“Natasha.” Jaimie used her seductress voice. It was nice hanging out with people who did the same job as you. There was no need to shield and try to hide secrets, it was relaxing. Apart from their meets they didn’t see each other much. For them it was also a job and nothing more.

In the midst of their giggles and sips of their drinks the backdoor office opened and out came the Madame, now newly named Natasha.

With her six inch Louboutin’s and a pencil leather skirt she strutted towards them, the only thing that would make this atmosphere even more perfect was if Beyoncé was playing in the background.

“First things first.” She extended her arm. The agency always got a 30% cut from all the earnings, to keep the story short, it sucked.

“Look, Constantina, I think you need to reconsider this 30%. It’s brutal.” Tom handed her the envelope with his two week earnings.

“No.” That was all there was to it. Natasha started counting and the subject was lost. If business for Tom kept up the way it was he would have to start doing fetishes, and not the leather kind, but the watersports.

“If you need some extra cash, you might start off with selling that jacket of yours.” Chris ran a hand down the velvet of the coat.

“Look, it’s not a jacket, it’s a coat. And No, it was a gift.” There was no way in hell he was getting rid of his coat. He loved it. Maybe he could do without the watch. He gulped down the last remaining of his Mimosa and yanked his arm out of Chris’s reach.

“Jaimie, you have your two regulars on Monday, then on Tuesday evening an overnight with Marcus.” Jaimie wrote down her appointments. There were two other girls in the agency. Jane and Maria were intercontinental. The first was in on a trip in San Lucas Cabo and the other was in Tokyo. Lucky.

“Hunt, regular on Monday at two, and you have a duo with Mr. T on Wednesday.” Clients usually preferred duos with two girls, but nowadays you couldn’t tell what they wanted. It was all very odd.

“Jaimie?” Chris always did his duos with Jaimie.

“Actually…” Nat spoke up before Jaimie could agree, “…he asked for Tom, specifically.”

“You stole my client.” Jaimie looked over her third cosmopolitan at Tom. Clients got tired of escorts and moved on to new ones. It was known, but it still hurt the wallet when they did decide to do that.

“I can’t do Wednesday. I have Jones.” He needed to figure out how he was going to “break up” with Idris.

“No you don’t. He canceled.” That’s when it happened. The whole world smacked Tom in the face.


End file.
